12: From behind a bookshelf
by cali-chan
Summary: Everything you need to know about life: What dustfilled bookshelves do to noses, and what love does to cough undercover operations.


Ladies and Gentlemen... Carla here. I've done something today that I'd never done before. I wrote a ficlet-- directly in english. Not translated, but actually in english. So, I wanted to post it here... be warned: it hasn't been beta-ed, it was written in less than an hour, very rushed, and it's so sugary sweet, it can cause you cavities. Oh, and I think the ending is kind of lame... *nervous laugh* Heh.  
  
I dedicate this to:  
  
-Everyone over at the HMS Pumpkin Pie, because you guys rock!  
  
-And especially to **Nailju**, because our owls are the best.  
  
-And to the French football team, because I love them, even if they are a bunch of dolts who threw away the World Cup in an amazing display of mental errors. Even if they have nothing to do with this fic, I still love them, and they'll always be my team, win or lose. My heart goes out to you, Monsieur Zidane! You're still my hero, and I love you! Hope you get better soon...  
  
Anyway, here goes...  
  
  
  
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From behind a bookshelf  
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Dean scrunched up his nose as he searched for a book Professor McGonagall had asked him to find. One of the disadvantages of being Head Boy was that he had to spend a lot of time in the library. And the library was full of dust, which wasn't good for his poor nose.  
  
_How to apply a "Reparo" charm on those broken rules_, was the title of the book the deputy Headmistress had asked him to find. How wizards and witches, being so intelligent and all, could put such stupid titles to their books remained a mystery to him, even with the seven years he had spent in the wizarding world. Thank God his skill was drawing and not writing, he thought while getting the book out of the bookshelf and holding it in his hand. And even more of a mystery was how people could actually read books with such stupid titles. He was pretty sure that McGonagall was going to make him read it. Maybe he should give it to Hermione; he had to admit that it DID look like the kind of books she'd read.  
  
And speaking of the devil... Through the space that was left when he pulled the book out, he could see the familiar bushy brown head, sitting at the table that was directly in front of that bookshelf. He was almost face to face with her profile, that was bent over a book that appeared to be about Potions, as she was whispering something about stirring, and cauldrons. And sitting beside her was none other than The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.  
  
Oh, boy, was this going to be interesting, thought Dean, putting the book under his arm to get a better look at the pair. If he could get an earful of their conversation, Ron would owe him a lot of money. So, he left all thoughts of his Head Boy-ish duties out of his mind, and put on the spy gear.  
  
Harry and Hermione had been "going out" for almost a week and a half. The news were officially confirmed during a Charms study session, and promptly spread all throughout Gryffindor Tower, and almost all of Hogwarts. Everyone was happy for them, you know, they were the kind of couple who girls looked at and giggled, wishing they were in a relationship like that. They looked radiant and very in love whenever they were together.  
  
Still, the Gryffindor 7th year boys were getting a bit suspicious. Days were passing, and the most intimate contact they'd had in public was holding hands. There had to be something wrong... there was no way they could be so platonic. Sure, they weren't the type to be caught half-dressed on top of the Astronomy Tower, but they were sure no hot-blooded, biologically healthy, 17-year-old male like Harry was could resist stealing a few kisses. But he wasn't saying anything about the time he spent with Hermione, and she wasn't the most chatty girl when it came to boy-talk with Parvati and Lavender, either. So, either they were really shy, really weird, or the whole thing was really a fake.  
  
Thus, the boys decided to keep an eye on them, to figure out what exactly was the reason for such an intriguing situation. ("Operation S.N.O.G.", Ron, their self-proclaimed leader, had taken to call it-- "Sneaking at Night to Observe those Gits.") So far, they'd had no luck at all. They had almost gotten caught by Filch twice in three days, while going out to catch the couple on those famous "walk-dates" they had around the lake. And they hadn't seen as much as a hug from them. Ron was getting desperate, to the point where he said he would sell Pig and give the money to whomever could bring him ANY information of what Harry and Hermione did in private.  
  
And while Dean was sure that Ron wouldn't have the guts to actually sell his hyperactive little owl, he could use some money. Besides, eavesdropping on Harry and Hermione was fun. He felt like James Bond.  
  
He looked at the title of the book he had under his arm again.  
  
Well... not quite 007.  
  
He leaned more into the bookshelf, trying to hear the voices a bit more clearly. He had seen this in movies-- no librarian in sight, perfect time for a necking session between piles and piles of books. He didn't want to see them getting it on... eww. So he'd just listen for a bit, and then leave when things started getting hot and heavy.  
  
"...and then you add the Belladonna roots, stir it a bit, and wait until it turns a pale green color. See? As simple as that," Hermione was saying.  
  
Harry took off his glasses and pressed his palm against his eyes. "I'm not getting this, Hermione."  
  
"I'll help you, but you have to copy it down first. Remember, the essay is due this Monday," she reminded him.  
  
Harry grumbled something about Snape being a crazy git, and resumed writing.  
  
A few minutes passed, and the only thing Dean could hear was Harry's quill rasping against the parchment, and Hermione skimming throught the pages of a book that seemed to be bigger than she was. Now he was getting bored, thought Dean.  
  
Only a bit later, Harry suddenly stopped writing. He dropped his Eagle Feather Quill on top of his parchment, and turned his head to look at Hermione, who was concentrating on the MediMagical antidotes for aging potions. His eyes were glazed, his expression amazed, as if he were seeing an angel for the very first time, and didn't think himself worthy of such an honor.   
  
But it was only Hermione. He had seen her countless times, thought Dean. She wasn't even looking that pretty this morning.  
  
"You're so beautiful," Harry said.  
  
And it wasn't just a phrase. It had come straight from his heart, filled with all the incredible feelings that he had inside him at that moment. She looked up when she heard the words, gazing directly into his eyes, and blushed a little.  
  
"And I love you," he concluded.  
  
They kept their gaze until Harry snapped out of the trance. Shaking his head a bit, and blushing too, he lowered his eyes to his parchment, took the Eagle Feather Quill in his hand, and started writing again.  
  
Hermione kept looking at him, cheeks still rosy, with a small smile adorning her lips. Wordlessly she stood up from her chair, and went to stand behind Harry. She wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her chin on his left shoulder. Then, with one hand, she started playing with his hair, in soft, constant caresses.  
  
It was then that Dean understood that they didn't need kisses or snog sessions to prove their love. It was there, lying between them, in every glance they shared, every little touch, and every single thought. They were connected on a deeper level than other couples their age were. Operation S.N.O.G. would have to find other targets, for he thought scenes like this were too personal to be spied on.  
  
He slowly turned around and left, being careful not to make any loud noises that could make his presence known.  
  
He didn't see Harry turn his head around, and Hermione lean downwards to press her lips softly against his in the purest of kisses. He didn't see them rest their foreheads together, closing their eyes. And he didn't hear Hermione's soft whisper of "I love you too," either.  
  
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~* fin *~  
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So, how was that? First HP ficlet in english... wow. I just had to find a weird POV to make it from. What's next, Moaning Myrtle? *groans* Please overlook my Dean being Head Boy, I know that's a bit unlikely, but it's a strange fixation I have. Please R&R! -cali-chan. 


End file.
